Queen of Hearts
by pokemonaddict123
Summary: Pokemon AU:: The fates of the Joker's children were ordained a millennium ago, after the War of Solitaire. Now, hundreds of years later, history begins to repeat itself...
1. Table of Contents

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❤Queen of Hearts❤

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_a story by_

alyson yang

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_a pokemon adventures fanfiction_

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**A Table of Contents**

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**~Table of Contents  
~Prophecies**

**The Diamond Arc  
****~Chapter One- The Wind in the Willows  
~Chapter Two- When in Rome  
~Chapter Three- Coming Soon!**


	2. Prophecies

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❤Queen of Hearts❤

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_a story by_

alyson yang

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_a pokemon adventures fanfiction_

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**↥✤The Prophecies◊❤**

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**The Prophecy of Four**

(The infamous prophecy carved into stone by early settlers of the Pokermon kingdom nearly a millennium ago. It was supposedly told to them by the words found in the smoke of a sleeping dragon.)

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_Four babes of three Queens shall the Joker bequest_

_Three will be tainted but one will be blest_

_The Spade, the wild card, who tears the world asunder_

_Will forever live in paradise- or lie eternally under_

_The Diamond must choose wisely, before daylight is lost_

_Only one can be saved, and the other: the cost_

_The Heart longs for unity, and seeks what is gone_

_But the final shard it yearns will be lost __denouement_

_The Club shall travel to depths far beyond reach_

_To bargain with death and chain those who are free._

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**The Pallet Town Prophecy**

(One stormy night, a drunk fortune teller [presumably Sabrina, the Oracle of Spades] told the bartender this short spiel before she fell asleep. It has been displayed on a wall of the bar ever since.)

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_Sons of Diamond, beware the night_

_Heart, not head, will bring contrite_

_Follow not the path astray_

_Or shall the darkness corrupt the day_

_The elder brother, crimson red_

_Beware the dangers that you tread_

_A traitor lurks within your midst_

_Heed to the warnings of the dead_

_The younger son, with heart of gold_

_Freeze not your heart until ice-cold_

_Beware the man of thousand masks_

_Reveal not the secrets you withhold._

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**The Lost Child Prophecy**

(The prophecy foretold by Bianca, Queen of Hearts, in a page of her diary, three weeks before her subsequent disappearance. It is believed that the intended recipient of the letter is Bianca's daughter, born to an unknown man.)

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_...My beloved child, born of sin:_

_Trust not the man who calls you kin_

_Forgo the blood, embrace the sea_

_Escape the variegate coterie_

_A hundred lies and a single truth_

_The answer lies in those uncouth_

_Pay the toll, or face the fee_

_From your fate, you must not flee_

_The siren's call will draw you near_

_To those who wish to cause you fear_

_Find the blind man who can see;_

_And may you always think of me._

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**The Gemstone Prophecy**

(The present Joker, Cheren, commissioned this prophecy about his eldest son from Sabrina, the Oracle of Spades [also believed to have written the Pallet Town Prophecy, see above]. It is unfinished due to Sabrina fainting halfway through her divination and being unable to grasp the rest of the spiel upon waking)

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_Child of misfortune, son of hell_

_In the shadows forever you dwell_

_Be watchful of those gold and bright_

_For shining stars are filled with spite_

_The kindred soul will lead you wrong_

_Your final choice will come erelong_

_Within the shadows of your past_

_Drown within the souls of..._

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	3. Chapter One- The Wind in the Willows

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❤Queen of Hearts❤

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_a story by_

alyson yang

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_a pokemon adventures fanfiction_

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**Diamond Arc:**

**◊Chapter One- The Wind in the Willows◊**

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The children sing it like a hymn, a solemn melody of overlapping words and tones: "_Four babes of three Queens shall the Joker bequest..._"

Crystal listens to their drifting voices from the open window in her study, while she studies the ancient texts and tongues of long ago in an attempt to escape the sweltering summer heat. Such scholarly pursuits are generally frowned upon as a proper noblewoman, but she finds solace in immersing herself in tomes and publications, and bears no small amount of contempt to what society dictates.

She is in the middle of deciphering a particularly cumbersome chapter of _Childre af__ God_ when the tell-tale knock of the maid interrupts her thoughts. "Mistress Crystal," Lyra says, dark brown eyes boring into her own, "there is a visitor loitering outside the gates asking for you. He claims he is-"

"Send him in," Crystal says dismissively, returning back to her notes. "I was expecting him. I do apologize for not informing you earlier about this, Lyra."

"Yes, Mistress Crystal," Lyra answers demurely, giving a small bow, before turning to leave. Her quiet footsteps echo in the otherwise silent hallway, and Crystal makes a small footnote on the closest scrap of parchment she can find to remind the girl to close the door completely the next time she enters.

Muffled footsteps alert her to the presence of the guest, and she blushes, hurriedly smoothing her wrinkled dress and her mussed hair into something presentable. "Really, Sir Green," she sighs after reassured of her appearance, melodramatically fanning herself with her crystal-blue satin fan, "must you visit so early, but five minutes to tea time?"

"I apologize, Lady Crystal," Green replies suavely, entering the room, and for once she is glad of the heat as it disguises her rapidly reddening face. He is as handsome as ever, the afternoon light shining through the window and casting a halo of light over his brown locks. "I would not have come if I had known it would inconvenience you. Please, accept this fine jasmine tea imported from the ports of Unova as a consolation. I trust it will taste rather fine with the rosemary biscuits you served at Grandfather's reception last week?"

"Sir Green, you rascal!" she exclaims, gratefully accepting the small wooden box. The fragrant scent lingers in the air for a slight moment, before blowing out the open window with the light summer breeze. "You planned all of this beforehand, did you not?"

Green smiles teasingly. "I do admit I could not simply pass on the chance to taste those wonderful biscuits, My Lady. Magnificently baked, they were... perhaps I should steal your maid. I'm sure Grandfather would not mind, either."

Crystal shakes her head. "My sister Yellow made those, actually. She's quite a talented cook. I'm sure she would not mind baking a few extra for such distinguished company like you."

"I'm quite honored, My Lady," he chuckles. "Then perchance I should think about taking the talented Lady Yellow for my wife?"

"Sir Green!" she cries out again, scandalized, as her face blushes an unhealthy crimson color. Green laughs, a deep, throaty sound that resonates against the floorboards, and leans casually against the wall as he opens his mouth to speak.

Whatever he is about to say next is interrupted by the ringing of the tea bell, startling the both of them. "Please, join us for tea," Crystal smiles after an awkward pause, rising as gracefully as she can from the chair. "We would be honored to have you."

"I am obliged to you, Lady Crystal," he replies, giving a mock bow and allowing her to take the lead. He follows her from outside the study and into the tea room, where Yellow, Silver and Ruby have already arranged themselves around the circular tea-table, and nimbly seats himself in an offered chair by a passing maidservant.

"This is Sir Green, the grandson of the distinguished Sir Samuel Oak," Crystal introduces, settling down gracefully on the seat beside him, as Lyra pours the jasmine tea into delicate porcelain teacups. "He is a... _co-worker_ of mine, you would say. Sir Green, these are my siblings Ruby, Silver and Yellow, as you may know."

Yellow giggles softly behind her pastel-yellow silk fan. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, Sir Green," she smiles warmly, standing up and giving a slight curtsy with her long yellow gown. She looks less pale and more robust than usual today, perhaps in part because of the weather. "I am honored to be in your presence today. I am Yellow."

Green smiles suavely in response. "Lady Crystal has already told me of your magnificent cooking ability, Lady Yellow," he replies, offering a gloved hand. Yellow blushes faintly, before shaking it timidly. "The rosemary biscuits you prepared for Grandfather's reception last week were simply marvelous. And I can see your beauty is even more breath-taking than your remarkable cooking skill."

"Thank you," she responds shyly, retreating back into the safety of her fan. Green watches Yellow sit down with an odd look in his eye, which makes Crystal's heart ache painfully for some strange reason. She shakes her head. Perhaps she has been exposed to too much heat. She fans herself vigorously at the thought, attempting to ignore the dull throb in her chest.

"Sir Green," Ruby says, initiating the conversation, "it is a pleasure to have you for tea. Please, enjoy yourself."

"Lord Ruby," Green responds, "I thank you for your hospitable treatment of myself, who is a lower rank than you. Although your brother is heir to this family, I know that you will make a good and respectable Lord one day, after your Rite of Manhood is passed."

Ruby smiles uncertainly, but Silver's face is troubled. "I thank you, Sir Green, for such flattering words," he says carefully, "but I believe you are mistaken. I am not my father's heir. My oldest sister, Blue, was the one that he chose."

"A woman as a heir!" Green says, clearly shocked. "And with two perfectly young, talented sons to choose from? Your father-"

"-made a sound choice," a voice cuts him through. Crystal looks up, and indeed, Blue stands at the threshold, straight and proud. She is perfectly poised as always, her favored midnight-blue lace fan in her hand, the very image of a model lady if not for her outfit. It is a black tunic meant to be worn underneath a dress, sleeveless and high-collared, cutting off mid-thigh with high slits at the sides.

_Why, Blue, why_, Crystal silently despairs, _did you choose today of all days to wear that outfit? Why?!_

"Y-your legs!" Green stutters, his face burning a crimson red. "I can see your legs!"

Blue glances at him cursorily, nonplussed. "Yes," she says, as if the answer is obvious. "You can see my legs. Unless, of course, you are visually-impaired or particularly dim-witted, in which what you are currently seeing are _not_ my legs."

"Cover yourself at once, woman!" Green snaps, refusing to look at her. "I refuse to look or speak with someone so indecent! Even the wenches in the whorehouse dare not flaunt their legs like you so insolently do!"

"What right do you have to order me around, _Sir_ Green? I could easily have you brought into court for disrespect toward your betters," Blue shoots back, settling herself elegantly on the seat reserved for the head of the table. She taps her fan mockingly over her lips, showing the inkling of a smile. "And exactly how would you know about a prostitute's state of dress? Unless, of course, you know about these things in a rather... _personal_ basis, of course."

"_Blue_! Don't go muttering such indecencies in front of a honored guest. You'll spoil our family reputation!" Crystal hisses, appalled. And then, louder, "Sir Green, please forgive my sister's actions. She must be addled by all the heat. I'll send for the maids to escort her back to her room."

Blue harrumphs contemptuously. "There is no need for that, sister of mine. Just spending time with this... _scoundrel_ is enough to make me feel faint. Very well, I shall take my leave. Lyra, be a darling and send me a cup of tea when the noon bell rings, will you?"

Green sneers, an ugly expression. "I'm afraid I've overstayed my welcome," he says, sounding both gracious and spiteful at once. There is a light clinking sound as he sets his now-empty cup against the table. "Thank you very much, Lady Crystal. Your company was very much preferred. And Lady Yellow, I hope to see you again." He procures a single cardinal rose from his pocket, slightly battered from rough handling but doubtlessly fresh and expensive. He nods at her brothers. "Lords Ruby and Silver, I am greatly honored to be in your company."

Lyra wordlessly leads him out, the door closing quietly behind the duo. A moment later, Blue growls angrily. "Crystal, you need to make a better choice in choosing your connections. People like him aren't to be trusted."

"I don't know about that, sister," Yellow says quietly, her face tinted slightly pink. She fingers the rose tenderly, her pale fingers winding around the stem, careful to avoid the thorns. "He seemed very pleasant to me."

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A bell chimes loudly as the door to the florist shop opens, alerting Red to his first customer of the day. He yawns, hurriedly brushing his hair back in an effort to look more presentable, before stepping out from the back room to greet his client.

"Welcome, how may I help you today- _Green_?"

His best friend stands at the threshold, smartly dressed as always in that rather ridiculous black silk suit of his, a flushed expression on his face. "Red," Green greets tersely, nodding. "I was wondering if you have any of the rose you gave me last week in stock? It was the cardinal one, I believe, the one I got in exchange for helping you around the store..."

Red takes a moment to process the fact that his asexual best friend wants to buy a flower, before the dots connect in his mind. "You finally got a woman to notice you?" he asks incredulously, unable to hide his disbelief. "_You_, Green Oak, had a girlfriend before _I_ did?"

"How vile, what you speak of," Green says dismissively, peering at a plant covered with small white flowers on display. "No, Grandfather has told me that he intends to marry me off to a woman I know not of- most likely a flighty, air-headed wench, just to spite me- if I cannot find a bride by my Rite of Manhood Ceremony. However, just recently, I met a girl who has the qualities all womankind should possess, the sister of one of my colleagues. I intend to court her."

"Huh," Red says, not knowing what to say. "Well... _er_... the rose I gave you last week, that was an experimental breed, actually. Gold was trying to breed a blue rose, but somehow it ended up bright red, so he suggested that we give it to you instead."

"_Really_, now," Green says dryly, sighing. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped that my only friend also happens to be an immense cheapskate. Do you have any other roses close to that shade?"

Red laughs, rubbing his hair sheepishly. "We had a shipment of Blackjack roses yesterday, but those are more crimson then cardinal. And... I think that's about it, actually. It seems a lot of wealthy aristocrats like to buy roses in the summer, so we've been profiting a lot around the time of this season, but our stocks have gone dangerously low. Would your lady prefer red lisianthus or ranunculus instead?"

"I told you earlier yesterday, brother, we're out of ranunculus," a voice says from behind him. Red turns around, surprised, to see Gold, still not entirely awake, clad in only his sleeping-clothes and a lopsided nightcap, standing tiredly at the open door of the storeroom. "Who are you talking to right now, brother- _holy mother of Diamonds_ is that _Green_?"

"Yes, it is," Green says, bemused. "Why is it that you are so surprised to see me here?"

"Aren't you, like, I don't know, capable of reproducing by yourself?" Gold asks, the sleep on his face gradually lifting. "I thought you had no interest in women. Why the sudden change?"

"I already told this to Red, but I suppose I'll repeat it for you again. I have to marry before my Rite of Manhood," Green says flippantly, bending down to examine a small tulip bud hidden below a display of much flashier flowers, "or Grandfather will choose for me. And so I'm courting the sister of one of my colleagues, although she is much younger than I and from much higher birth."

Red blinks. "There is somebody of higher rank than you?" he asks, confused. "I thought your grandfather was the Bug Minister. Isn't he the person that supports the weight of the entire Kingdom?"

Green shakes his head. "No, you've got it wrong. Grandfather is indeed very important, but he is not of aristocracy, and his power is limited. The true Wild Card is the Joker- you know, the adviser to the Poker council- who actually controls the entire workings of Pokermon from the shadows. They say that he and his children are the ones mentioned in the Prophecy of Four, but that's nonsense. He has five children, not four, and as far as I know, he never had three wives, only two."

"So you're interested in one of the Joker's children?" Gold asks, a sly smile on his face. "Who also happens to be the sister of one of your colleagues- wait a minute, that means that one of your grandfather's assistants is one of the Joker's sons! What's he like? Is he nice? Is he good-looking?"

"Why have you so much interest now, of all times?" Green asks, frowning. "It is not a he, but a she. Lady Crystal, in fact. And although I disapprove of women working men's jobs in general, I must admit that she is indeed a general asset to our research. Without her, we would not have nearly accomplished as much. However, I sometimes do wish that she would act more ladylike at times."

"Women, huh?" Gold says, not quite phrasing a statement but not quite asking a question either. "Ah, you are so lucky, surrounded by such respectable ladies. Even though I am blessed with Heaven's Graces and benign looks, no fair maiden has come forth to request my hand as of yet. I envy you, Green. I really do."

Green snorts loudly. "Perhaps if you were to act more respectable in public and dress more conservatively, women would flock to you in droves," he says, taking a glance at his watch. "Oh dear, it appears that I am behind schedule. Where were we, before Gold so kindly interrupted us... ah, yes. I don't want imitations, I wish for true roses. I care not for the color- as long as it is red, I am sure my lady will treasure it so. Cut me ten stems, will you not?"

"Coming right up, good sir," Red says teasingly, coming from the back storage room with the said roses. With a movement perfected by years of practice he expertly snips off the thorns and wraps up the freshly cut flowers. "Would you like a bouquet, or do you want them individually separated?"

"Bouquet," Green says mechanically, "and wrap it in yellow cloth, if you would."

"Here you go, Green," Red says, handing the flowers to his friend carefully. "I'm sure your lady will enjoy it very much. Oh, and that will be a hundred and thirty-three Chips please, including tax, if you would please."

"This is clearly an attempt at highway robbery," Green grumbles, but complies, fishing out a handful of colorful coins from the leather wallet in the back pocket of his silken trousers and placing them methodically on the counter-top. "I'll be reporting you to the sheriff's office, just you wait, Red. No sane man would ever pay that much for two less of a dozen roses."

"And yet you do, anyway, and I can wholeheartedly say that you are the sanest man I know," Red says cheerfully, collecting the coins and counting them systematically. "Alright, you're free to go. I'm looking forward to your next visit!"

"I'm never coming back," Green says back, with no real venom in his voice. He opens the door with more force than necessary, causing the bell to ring loudly, echoing inside of the store. Red watches Green leave while carrying the ludicrously large amount of roses in his hand, his silken black silhouette disappearing into the distance, and suddenly feels strangely alone.

"Those roses were really pretty, weren't they?" Gold asks, leaning against the counter tiredly.

"Yeah," Red agrees, slumping against the wall. "But I don't think red roses are as beautiful as everybody says they are, really. I bet roses made of gold and silver would be so much more lovely."

"Hmm," Gold says, making an affirming noise. "But who has ever heard of such a thing as a gold rose, anyways?"

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	4. Chapter Two- When in Rome

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❤Queen of Hearts❤

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_a story by_

alyson yang

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_a pokemon adventures fanfiction_

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**Diamond Arc:**

**◊Chapter Two- When in Rome◊**

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The inhabitants of Celadon City, in the depths of Kanto, have long been used to the mysterious mists that creep through the streets every night, vanishing with the passing sun. Nobody knows what it is, or how it forms—the only thing that the residents can agree on when explaining the phenomenon is that the fog is there to hide something, something that does not want to be discovered.

Silver frowns, tracing a map of the city with the tip of his pointer finger. There is something not quite right about the occurrence, something unsettling and sinister, and he is determined to track it down to its roots, if only to satisfy his own restlessness. With his father's ever-growing mysterious absences and Yellow's worsening health, he can feel the stress piling onto him, and he urges for an escape—anything, at the very least, that will keep his mind occupied and away from the harsh truths of reality.

His finger stops on an inconspicuous building near the Southern part of the city, exactly alike to all the buildings in the vicinity. _Rocket Game Shop_. The name is strangely familiar to him, although he cannot place it from where exactly in his hazy memory. The logo—a large red **R**, with a black background—does not ring any bells, however, and he dismisses the store as a possible lead, moving on to more probably originators of the mist. The small aquarium near the department store appears more and more interesting to his eye every second.

"Lord Silver." A quiet voice interrupts his thoughts, and he turns to see Lyra standing at the door, hands held primly in front of her as she bows. Her brown pigtails pop up almost comically when she does so, and he stifles a chuckle that builds up in the depths of his throat. "Lady Blue instructed me to give you this before she left for a trip to town." She fishes the pockets of her apron, drawing out a slim white envelope, and presses it in his hand. "Please read it." She bows again, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Did she say anything else when she gave it to you?" he asks, eyeing the envelope warily. Whatever Blue deemed unnecessary to tell him herself in person when she left for her monthly visits to town usually ended up to be trivial things, but he is a man of caution, and will not throw his fate out to the wind. "Do you know who the original sender is, perhaps?"

"No, I do not know for certain, Lord Silver," Lyra says primly, folding her hands together. "I believe it was Master Cheren, though, as there are still traces of his rosemary cologne on it. I can remember it from the last package he sent, a few weeks ago."

"Father?" Silver says, surprised. "Why would he—" Pausing, he fingers the edges of the envelope suspiciously, feeling the bumps and grooves in the outside parchment, before frowning. "Lyra, you are to be dismissed for now. Leave me be until teatime."

"Yes, Lord Silver." Lyra bows once again, gaze directed at the floor, before quietly exiting and closing the door behind her.

When he hears the last of the footsteps die away in the distance, Silver all but rips apart the envelope, savagely tearing it in two, three, four sections. True to his expectations, two pieces of stark-white paper flutter to the ground, falling neatly at his feet. The smaller sheet is crammed with words, and bending over to pick it up, he recognizes Blue's elegant penmanship immediately.

_Father bade me send you a copy of this prophecy, from when he visited the Oracle of Spades in one of his travels. He hopes it will assist you in the future._

Below, words are filled into rigid columns, letters inconspicuously made thinner when it became clear they would not fit as it was. The ink is still drying on some of the bottom lines, smeared throughout the margins, and, careful not to crinkle the letter, he scans through the prophecy.

_Child of misfortune, son of hell_

_In the shadows forever you dwell_

_Be watchful of those gold and bright_

_For shining stars are filled with spite_

_The kindred soul will lead you wrong_

_Your final choice will come erelong_

_Within the shadows of your past_

_Drown within the souls of_

Silver frowns, turning the page around to the other side. There are no more words to be seen, although it is very evident that the prophecy is not finished. Perhaps Blue had forgotten to add the last tidbits in...? But no, his elder sister is just as cautious as he is, and would never let such a glaringly obvious mistake slip in beyond her notice. The more reasonable explanation would be, of course, that the prophecy had simply never been completed, although that, too, is unlikely; Oracles are renowned for their stellar performances and accurate divinations. Unfinished prophecies are considered to be the ultimate shame of prophesying, especially to someone as famous and experienced as the Oracle of Spades.

It was easier not to think of the subject matter at all.

He tosses the paper carelessly away and onto his desk, focusing his attention on the larger sheet. There are only five words in comparison to Blue's cramped note, all in rushed handwriting that he makes out to be belong to his father's desk secretary, Leo:

_Beware the Sign of R_.

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Emerald folds the napkins carefully, matching the fabric fringes together in an enviable display of dexterity. The cafe will not be open until noon, but he will need all the practice he can get if he is to inherit the family business; his mother's declining sanity and his father's weak constitution will be unable to support their middle-class lifestyle for long.

He is half-finished with his task when there is the tell-tale sound of the front door opening slowly, the groan of old wood against rusted metal resounding in the silence. Before he has the chance to turn away from the now-crumpled napkin in his fingers, delicate hands cover his eyes and a warm breath brushes against the top of his head, causing tawny locks of stray hair to move hazardly against his forehead. "Guess who?"

"_Crystal_," Emerald says, exasperated, placing the napkin onto the table, "and I was almost done with this, too."

Crystal laughs, a soft, tinkling sound that echoes through the air like silver chimes in the wind. She has been a regular customer of the cafe for almost two years, and is his closest friend from the outside world—and hopefully, future wife—as well. "Well, I suppose I simply couldn't_ resist_ when you made such an interesting face. And you must understand, when I have not eaten for a long time my nature will change due to excessive hunger."

He snorts disbelievingly, but packs away the unfinished napkins into the designated gray bin inside the storage cabinet regardless. "Since you're here, I might as well prepare something. We still have the brussel sprouts Pa was planning to dispose of yesterday, a moldy cut of lamb shank we were going to feed the dog with, and a bag of fermented beans soaked in balsamic vinegar—"

"By any chance, does that list include fresh-baked apple pie?" Crystal asks, fiddling with the pale silver ribbon tied on the end of her plait; it is a shade lighter than the metallic grey color of her sundress, and matches the livid blue-grey of her eyes. "I thought I smelled it when I entered the room."

"You freeloader," Emerald snorts, readjusting his ponytail. "No, Pa's saving that for a customer. Come back next week; Ma's planning to bake some chicken pot pies. I could probably sneak one under a sleeve to give you."

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot," Crystal says, and brings out a few small bags of tea leaves from a small pouch in the folds of her dress. "These are imported jasmine leaves from Unova. We had a rather... affluent guest stay over at my house just the other day, and I thought Auntie Platinum and Uncle Pearl would like some. I heard they have both been rather under the weather these few days."

Emerald takes the bags gingerly, tucking them into one of his trouser pockets. He has always known Crystal to be from a well-off family, an aristocratic one even, but the amount of wealth to buy even one bag of such leaves is no small number. To give such a large number so carelessly away to a commoner like him, the position she holds on the social ladder is most likely higher than he will ever be able to reach. "Thank you, Crys," he smiles, trying not to look as disappointed as he feels. "I'm sure Ma and Pa will love it."

"Then I shall be back soon," Crystal smiles, giving his hands a tight squeeze. "And who knows, perhaps when we next meet, there might be a certain surprise awaiting on my finger I will certainly be looking forward to show you."

She leaves before he can say anything more. Emerald stares at her back, wishing he could say something more interesting than just genial chatter and words of empty congratulations; suddenly, it seems that she is miles away from him instead of a mere ten feet.

Another sharp clatter, and his mother enters the room, still donned in her muslin dressing gown and her hair untamed. Her eyes are unfocused, a sign that she is in the midst of one of her episodes; his father is nowhere to be seen, although it more than likely he is still asleep. She does not seem to notice him, instead walking across the room in some sort of distracted trance.

"_Ma_," Emerald says, blocking her path. "Ma, snap out of it. You're doing it again."

His mother stares at him impassively, as if processing who he is. He has never noticed before, but her eyes are the same shade as Crystal's, a stunning silver-grey color like the reflection of the sky on a polished sword—although Crystal's eyes are bright and filled with joy and life, and his mother's eyes are painfully empty.

She reaches her arm outwards, as if to caress his cheek, but clutches the edge of his chin instead. "Ma," Emerald says uncomfortably, backing away slowly from her painfully tight grip on his jawbone. "Ma, you're hurting me."

His mother does not seem to hear him. Instead, her fingers tighten around the skin of his jaw, one hand slipping downwards and encircling his neck instead.

"_Ma_!" Emerald shouts, flailing wildly, his voice taking a desperate edge to it. "I can't breathe! You're okay now! It's me, _Emerald_!"

His mother freezes, dim coherence resurfacing in her eyes slightly. Emerald takes advantage of her confusion to escape her grasp, clambering clumsily on a nearby table and catching his breath. In one fluid motion, his mother jerks backwards and collides with a untucked chair, landing on her heels with a loud clatter.

"Emerald?" his mother asks, her eyes wide and confused. She is no longer unaware and impassive, but disoriented and frightened, a light flush rising on the curves of her cheeks. "What—why am I here? What happened?"

"You had another one of those episodes," Emerald says, feeling his heart thump wildly in his chest. "Your fingers were around my neck and I wasn't able to breath and I was so _scared_, Ma, that I would die right then and there."

"..._Die_?" his mother says dumbly, almost as if she can't believe his words. Using the armrest on an open chair to support herself into a sitting position, she sinks onto the wooden seat rigidly. "I—my dear child... I almost killed you?"

"Ma, please, don't worry about it," Emerald says, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from her back. "When I inherit the family business, I'll earn enough money to pay for a doctor so that he'll be able to find out what's wrong with your mind. It _must_ be some sort of evil demon that's been plaguing you, or a curse cast by some wicked sorcerer, or something equally horrible to that. There's no way that someone as kind and nice as you would do—"

"No," his mother interrupts him, sounding weary, but the solidity in her voice is enough to startle Emerald into flinching. "I think you're old enough, child. I shall tell you the truth today, about what happened to me before you were even conceived in my womb. I was the third wife of the Joker—"

Emerald gapes before he is aware of it, breathing hard in shock. "_The_ Joker? Do you mean the most powerful man in the Poker Council—"

"_H__ush_, child, and yes," his mother says, resting her neck on the edge of the chair backing. "I married him in a formal ceremony, yes, although in reality I was simply a disposable card used to cover up the existence of his second wife and play wet nurse to his two daughters. At the time, however, I had a lover, and when I slept with the Joker on our wedding night I did not know that I would give birth to two children of different fathers, as twins.

"When I found out at the time of the conceiving, I was so awfully ashamed that I fled his residence immediately by myself, effectively abandoning my daughters to his mercy. But he found me once again somehow, and, blackmailing me to stay with him for a little longer until my children were old enough to be weaned by cow's milk, I was forced to return. I left him after the span of a few short weeks, and though I will admit to having slept with him in that period, we ended things for good. I started a new romance with a man that I truly loved. Or so I thought.

"My short-lived union was extinguished when my new husband died of plague, and _that_ man reentered my life. He said that he would be collecting his dues, and took away my son, who was still a babe. Not even a child yet. He _stole_ my son away, and left me with _nothing,_ until I finally met your father and gave birth to you."

"What does that have to do with your illness, Ma?" Emerald asks, furrowing his brows in confusion.

Platinum sighs, a long, tired sound. "I tried to commit the ultimate sin of killing my daughters when they were newly born," she says, running a hand through his hair. "The Joker had great ambitions, you see. He married the Queen of Spades, White; and then the Queen of Hearts, Bianca; and would have gone on to marry the widowed Queen of Diamonds, Delia, if she had not been on the verge of death with two young sons. So he resorted to marrying me, who was thirteen years younger than him, but the Queen of Clubs. A girl, not a woman, forced into marriage just like that. But for what purpose?"

"Cheren, that despicable excuse of a Joker, wanted to reenact the Prophecy of Four."

.

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End file.
